


The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

by LerxstInSpace



Series: Breaking and Entering [7]
Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Gen, Heidegger is The Literal Worst, Post-Remake Ending, Referenced Ugly Breakup, Rufus Shinra is a Little Shit, Uncomfortable Business Meetings, may or may not be canon compliant?, seriously though fuck that guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 22:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30129846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LerxstInSpace/pseuds/LerxstInSpace
Summary: Tseng has never liked Rufus. Respected him as his superior, certainly. Appreciated the fact that he never cared what else his Turks did on or off the clock as long as they did what he told them, absolutely. But he’s neverlikedthe man. And Rufus has never liked Tseng either, but always respected his honesty and appreciated the fact that he wasn’t afraid to piss him off and didn’t try to curry favor.So while they could not even remotely be considered friends as such, they have always had a solid professional relationship and they have always knownexactlywhere they stood with one another. Until now, apparently.Because now, Rufus looks up at him and without pleasantries or preamble says: “I have doubts about your loyalty.”
Relationships: Past Tseng/Reeve Tuesti, Rufus Shinra & Tseng
Series: Breaking and Entering [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160927
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

A great many things can change overnight.

Some for the worse. 

The lobby looks like several bombs went off in it, which is probably not so far from the truth. An hour ago the executive suite and President’s office were sealed off while people in full hazmat suits scrubbed dubious fluids off the floor and walls from the elevator all the way out to the helipad. Tseng hasn’t personally looked in on the Drum, nor does he particularly want to given the kind of shit Hojo has been up to in there, but he’s been told it’s a disaster area. And it’s barely noon and at least five people in Public Relations have already thrown up their hands and walked off the job, some of them in tears, and Tseng can’t say he blames them because what the hell kind of cover story are they supposed to concoct to deal with all of _this!?_

And some... not so bad.

Hojo is gone. No two weeks’ notice, no note left behind, nothing. There’s a significant chance he’s gone rogue and Tseng does not want to think too much about what that might mean, given the kind of shit he got up to even with something vaguely resembling oversight, but at the present moment he is the least of their problems and they don’t have to see or hear or smell him. Aerith is also missing, but going by what security footage Tseng has seen (and there’s a particularly satisfying bit of that footage involving a motorcycle, Heidegger’s face, and maybe an inch of daylight between the two) she’s probably safe, and he’s glad for that. The old man is dead and while the exact manner of his death is certainly concerning to put it mildly, nothing of particular value was lost. And with Rufus in charge, Tseng and his Turks are finally out from under Heidegger’s thumb for good. 

He almost feels like he can breathe again.

So he doesn’t think anything of it when Rufus calls him up to the office, once the dubious fluids get cleaned up and the broken glass and furniture get hauled away and the executive suite is presentable again. He doesn’t think anything about it even when the door shuts and locks behind him and he realizes he and Rufus are alone.

“Sit down,” is all Rufus says, and he does. Still no reason for concern, he thinks.

They have an odd relationship. They always have. On a professional level, it’s a mixture of honesty, respect, trust, and appreciation. On a personal level... 

Well, brutal honesty would require Tseng to admit that he prefers Darkstar’s company to his master’s, and the damn dog has left him in need of stitches more than once. And in return Rufus has called him an insufferable prick, among other things, to his face on multiple occasions.

No. Tseng has never _liked_ Rufus. Respected him as his superior, certainly. Appreciated the fact that he never cared what else his Turks did on or off the clock as long as they did what he told them, absolutely. But he’s never _liked_ the man. And Rufus has never liked Tseng either, but always respected his honesty and appreciated the fact that he wasn’t afraid to piss him off and didn’t try to curry favor. 

So while they could not even remotely be considered friends as such, they have always had a solid professional relationship and they have always known _exactly_ where they stood with one another. Until now, apparently.

Because now, Rufus looks up at him and without pleasantries or preamble says: “I have doubts about your loyalty.”

Even fully on duty, Tseng can’t quite keep his reaction off his face. He rifles through every drawer of his mental filing cabinets, searching for any scrap of context for this accusation, and comes up completely empty. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“I’m sure you know _exactly_ what I mean.” One corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly upward. The smile, if it could even be called that, doesn’t touch the rest of his face. Especially not his eyes. “Or do I need to call Director Tuesti up here to refresh your memory?”

_What!?_

“That--” What the hell could _that_ possibly have to do with anything? “Sir, that was a personal matter. I don’t see how it has any relevance to--”

“Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t about your ex-boyfriend’s _feelings._ I could not possibly give less of a fuck about that.” Rufus leans back in his chair like he’s enjoying this, like he’s enjoying watching Tseng do his damndest to keep his reaction to himself. Knowing the little bastard, he probably is. “I wasn’t completely out of the loop in Junon, you know. Things got back to me. And I do give a great many fucks about what you did. Which stopped being a _personal matter_ the second you decided to involve my father in it.”

“I don’t follow, sir.”

“Yes you do.” Rufus stares a hole right through him. “And drop the ice queen shit. You know it doesn’t work on me.”

“I _am_ on duty right now, sir.”

Rufus raises an eyebrow. “You _can’t_ drop it anymore, can you?”

Tseng doesn’t dignify that with a response.

“Guess I can’t blame you, having Heidegger breathing down your neck all this time, just waiting for you to slip up. He never did care much for you, did he?”

“No, sir.”

“I imagine you feel like you’ve spent the last five years walking blindfolded through a minefield.”

“Something like that.”

“My father liked you, though.” Rufus snorts out something that might be a laugh. “Well. ‘Liked’ might be a strong word. He trusted you. He respected you. You did your job, you didn’t complain about it, and you were one of the few people _I’d_ actually listen to. It probably didn’t hurt that I told him you tried to talk me out of that plan that went to shit and got me sent off on an _extended overseas assignment_ or whatever he called it.”

“Where are you going with this, sir?”

Rufus shrugs. “I’m just trying to think like the old man here. To imagine what must have gone through his head when you came running to him to tell him what Director Tuesti said to you. I can’t imagine how deeply touched he must have been by your loyalty to him and the company.”

Tseng doesn’t dignify that with a response either, dripping with sarcasm as it is.

“Do you know what I would have done? If you’d come tattling to _me_ about some barely subversive thing your boyfriend said to you in the privacy of his own home?” His eyes narrow. _“I would have fired you on the fucking spot.”_

“Sir--”

“First, for wasting my time with some Baby’s First Thoughtcrime bullshit like that and second... I’m not an idiot, Tseng. You can handwave it off all day. You can tell me you never really cared about him, you were just keeping him extra close so you could watch him because you thought he might turn out to be trouble someday, and my father might have been stupid enough to buy that but I know better. I know _you_ better. _You loved him.”_ He sits back again, and Tseng feels a little like some kind of lab specimen under a microscope. “My father saw loyalty. I see someone who’d stab the love of his life in the back to save his own ass.” Another humorless laugh. “And you don’t even _like_ me. Hence... my doubts.”

Shit.

“Unless, of course, there's more to this than I've heard.” 

_Shit._

_“Is_ there more to this than I’ve heard, Tseng?"

There is absolutely no way out of this for Tseng, other than to tell him the whole truth. Because Rufus knows something. He might not have the receipts for what he knows, not yet, but he’s picked up enough stray pieces to know there _is_ more to it than he’s heard. And he’s not going to stop pressing until he gets confirmation of that.

Fucking hell, he’s worse than his father ever was. 

“There is, sir.”

“Hmm.” That’s all Rufus has to say to that and for just one fraction of a second Tseng thinks maybe, just maybe, that was all he needed to hear. That just a vague semi-confession would be enough to reinforce whatever Rufus thinks he knows. That he would be spared the ordeal of actually explaining himself. And when Rufus pushes back from his desk and gets up to peruse the shelf of decanters that had either been spared whatever indignities the rest of the office suffered last night or had already been restocked, he really does think, just for the span of time it takes Rufus to pick up a decanter, that that’s the end of it. “Still a bourbon man?”

“Y... yes, sir.”

Rufus pours two glasses, one from the first decanter he picks up, one from another, and comes back to his desk. He sets the first glass down in front of Tseng and takes a slow sip of his own. And he stares. And he _waits._

He should have known better, Tseng thinks. Well... if nothing else, he’s getting a drink out of this. It’s not much of a stall, but at least taking that sip gives him time to organize his thoughts. 

Only until the taste hits him, though. Caramel. Oak. Vanilla. A hint of cinnamon. 

Branford. 

Of course it’s fucking _Branford._

“Well?” Rufus says, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t have all day.”

* * *

About an hour later, locked in his office with the _do not disturb_ sign on the door, Tseng feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He checks it and finds an e-mail with an attachment.

_I took my new security clearance for a test drive and did some digging in Heidegger’s personal files. Your story checks out. Receipts attached. Somehow you actually managed to underestimate him and you_ still _covered all the bases. Brilliant. Wouldn’t expect anything less from you._

He reads the attached file. And reads it again. And one more time, even though seeing the proof in Heidegger’s own rambling words that his plan was so much worse than Tseng thought, that he’d come so much closer to pulling the trigger on it than Tseng thought he had, that he’d already handpicked his own team of replacement Turks, that Reeve would have been a target either way, makes him feel sick. 

_Unfortunately, it’s going to make your job that much harder if anything happens to me. At least your ex still trusts Reno & Rude. Good luck convincing him _ you’ll _have his back after you’ve already stabbed him in it once._

_P.S. Heidegger is a useful idiot but not one I can’t replace. If he ever threatens you, mouths off to you, or so much as looks at you funny again, feel free to kill him._

Despite everything, Tseng can’t help but chuckle at that. Still... he really does need to sit down and talk to Reno and Rude, now that they're all out of imminent danger. He owes them an explanation. And an apology.

(And as long as he’s being honest with himself, he thinks, he owes the same to Reeve as well. But this isn’t the time.)

And maybe, he thinks as he looks over the file one more time, as he takes a careful look at their would-be replacements and takes note of one in particular, maybe Rufus was onto something with that comment about keeping people extra close for the purpose of watching them in case they turned out to be trouble someday. 

Even if she doesn’t, given the events of the past twenty-four hours and the likelihood that things will get far worse before they get better, it might not hurt to add another Turk to the team.

**Author's Note:**

> "I hate your guts but also I 100% trust and respect you" is such a fun relationship dynamic and it fits these two like a glove.
> 
> You might get the impression that this fic is at most two alternate universes away from ending with angry boinking on Rufus' desk. _You would be correct._


End file.
